


Home

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1-shot. Dean’s surprised to be jerked out of Vegas in a most unusual way but a very surprising source. He’s even more surprised at the cause and then must choose what’s more important when given the choice of going back to his new carefree life or helping his injured brother. *Hurt/sick!Sam & disinterested/but still slightly protective!Dean* Set before the start of Season 10 so there may be spoilers from Season 9.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Language of course as well as minor violence.
> 
> Tags/Spoilers: No tags but there may be spoilers from the end of Season 9 so be aware of this.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything and no money is being made.
> 
> Author Note: The muse and I were down for a week due to not having my laptop so this is me pushing the muse off the ledge to get back into the writing mindset. It wanted hurt Sam with some demon Dean but still getting the boys back on the same page by the end. Hopefully I did that. And I hope you enjoy it.

**Home**

“What the hell, Crowley? I told you of all the places in the world that I would not ever return to Lawrence and especially not to this goddamn house!”

Ignoring the low threatening growl that was being aimed his way; the King of Hell was too busy trying to figure out how they’d gone from being in Vegas to being in some old house when he sure as hell hadn’t done it. He could tell by the way his current partner in crime was ranting that he hadn’t brought them here either so he was at an actual loss to explain this sudden change in locations.

“I didn’t bring us here!” he complained angrily. “Yell at the bloody angel who probably did!”

Ever since he woke up like he did and had agreed to go with Crowley until he got a handle on just what he was or what the mark on his arm had turned him into, Dean Winchester had been going on the new instincts he seemed to have.

For most of his adult life Dean had been living with the rules and ethics drilled into his head by his father. He’d played by the rules that came with being a hunter despite all the crap that had been hitting him and his younger brother for the past ten years especially.

Now that he didn’t feel held back by those he was letting loose without caring who might not like his choices. He was free from the burdens, the choices, the guilt and the responsibility that had been weighing on him since he was four freaking years old…the last night he was actually in this house. The house he’d been raised and the house where his and Sam’s lives had changed dramatically. The one place in his life that Dean Winchester had vowed never to step foot inside again.

“Castiel hasn’t talked to me in weeks! He’d have no reason to pull us here!” Dean snapped, fury and some other emotion making his deep voice all that much darker, green eyes sharpening as he whirled to glare at the demon that he blamed for getting him into this mess to begin with. “Get us out of here before I do it and if I do it I’m leaving your ass here!”

“I can’t get us out of here!” Crowley yelled back, frustrated more than he had in years…or since he’d met the damn bloody Winchesters to begin with. “Open the bloody door cause there’s some kind of power here keeping my powers from working and that shouldn’t be possible!”

Dean shot the King of Hell a sour look but reached to jerk the front door open only to yank his hand back with a snarl, palm burning when the knob heated. “What the hell, Crowley?” he demanded, feeling the hair on the back of his neck starting to stand like it would when something was approaching. “If you didn’t bring us here and I know Cas didn’t bring us here then who the goddamn hell did?”

“I did.” A voice spoke from behind them, from the general direction of the living room. “And if one more swear word comes out of your mouth I will be washing it out with a bar of soap. I didn’t allow your father to swear under my roof and you’re not allowed either.”

The voice that spoke was firm, serious but still brought back memories of lullabies and good times to Dean. It also chilled him to the bone because while he knew the voice he also knew it shouldn’t be possible to hear it now.

“What the bloody…” Crowley had started to turn toward the voice, lifting his hand even as Dean was opening his mouth to shout a warning to wait the short, snarky current ruler of Hell was tossed across the room. “What the…”

“And you…are not welcome in my home. Get out and leave my sons alone.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat as Crowley seemed to vanish and he was left alone; trapped in the house his nightmares had started with… “Mom.”

“Hello, Dean,” Mary Winchester’s smile was calm, loving. Just like he could still picture in his mind when he let himself think of the days before the fire, before evil invaded their lives and it all changed.

Of course since he also knew his mother’s spirit should’ve moved on the last time he and Sam had been here 10 years earlier the hunter turned demon wasn’t sure what was going on or if this was even real.

“My Mom’s spirit moved on when she saved Sam from that spirit or poltergeist or whatever the hell it was,” he narrowed sharp green eyes at the rather solid looking form of his blond haired, blue eyed mother to notice that even now she wore the same white nightgown that she’d died in. “Whatever game this is, you might have the power to pull me here, and toss Crowley’s ass back out…both of which take a lot more energy than a simple spirit should have by the way but I’m something a bit more.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of what you are now, Dean. Just like if you pull that blade out like you’re thinking of I will show you exactly what type of power a very angry mother has right now,” Mary replied in a tone of voice that was much harder, much more like the hunter she’d once been before she thought she’d escaped that life to raise a family. “In the four years I raised you I only spanked you twice and while you might be too big for that now I promise that as your mother I will show you exactly what I can still do if you don’t reconsider pulling that blade and take your attitude back down so I can tell you why I brought you back home.”

“No, this isn’t home. It hasn’t been since the night you…” Dean stopped to glare at the figure of his mother while still feeling something else in the back of his head but choosing to ignore it. “Fine! Let’s say for half a second that I buy this. That this isn’t an angel trick or something or something Sam pulled off to get me here because I’ve been ignoring his calls…what’s the ultimate game here, Mom?” he asked, sarcasm thick in his deeper than usual voice.

“I’m not possessed so I can’t be exorcised and like I said I’m no ordinary demon so what’s your next scheme?” Dean’s lips curled into a sneer a second before he grunted when a swift hand slapped him across his face with a slap he actually heard as well as felt.

“I might’ve died when you were four years old and your father’s parenting skills were clearly lacking in a lot of areas but so long as you still walk this earth I am your mother and the next time you take that tone with me I’ll show you exactly what a hunter’s skills should be. I will kick your uppity smart ass all over this living room!” Mary snapped, eyes sharpening as her head tilted to the side in mild warning as her son’s eyes started to flash black. “Reconsider Dean because it’s not to change or fix you that I brought you here for but something much more important.”

Dean had to fight the urge to fight, to lash out at the slap. His temper had always been hot, especially when struck and right now his emotions were more open; faster to respond and also to fight back…even if he already knew that his mother could in all honesty probably still kick his ass.

“Then why’d you bring me back here?” he demanded shortly, trying not to give into the urge to rub his stinging jaw. “What’s so important that you’d come back here of all places and yank my ass here with you? What was it, Mom?”

“Sam,” Mary merely said the single word and felt some relief when she caught the flash of raw emotion that crossed her older son’s face before it was gone.

“What about him?” Dean turned away to face the kitchen, needing the time to school his face because he was shocked to feel the same cold hand grip his heart as it always did when his brother’s name was mentioned in combination to the damn nagging feeling in the back of his head that told him something was wrong. “I didn’t think little brother would get so desperate yet that he’d go tattling on me to the ghost of our mother.”

He was tempted to sneer but didn’t feel like getting slapped again so merely looked over his shoulder when something from the second floor caught his attention. It also had his hand clenching. “Mom?”

“Sam didn’t summon me, Dean. I came because I felt him here,” Mary took a step that put her between her son and the steps, as if to keep him from going upstairs while keeping her eyes on Dean’s face. “He came here I guess because he didn’t know where else to go. He’s hurt and scared so I guess he wanted to be here. At least that’s what I managed to make out when he was lucid enough to not just be calling for you or John.”

The flip remark that was on the tip of his tongue soured the second those words clicked and Dean was in Mary’s face a second later. “What the hell…heck are you talking about?” he demanded harshly, eyes lifting as it dawned on him what that damn cold feeling in the back of his head was because he’d felt it every single time his little brother was hurt or scared and calling for him. “Sam never calls for Dad. He only calls for Dad if he’s really out of it and forgets that Dad’s…” he glanced down at the single hand that pressed against his chest, barring him from blowing past the slender woman and up to the second floor. “Sam’s hurt?”

“Demons jumped him looking to make an example out of your brother to send a message to you it seems. On top of that he hasn’t been sleeping or eating well because he’d running himself ragged looking for you,” Mary locked eyes to see the struggle going on inside Dean as this new side fought with a piece of him that she figured her son thought had died when he had. “His fever spiked today so as his mother I decided enough was enough. You’re his brother. You’re who he wants and you are going to help your brother or I will still ground your ass,” she informed Dean firmly but yet remained in his path. “You’re not like other demons, Dean.”

“No, I know that,” Dean sighed, realizing the sound he was hearing was his brother’s voice and feeling something twinge inside his chest. “I’m also not the man I was either, Mom. I’m free to be someone different than Dad’s perfect soldier or Sam’s big brother or the hardnosed hunter that I was made into. I’m free to be who I want to be for the first time since I was old enough to understand that this would be my life.”

“You always could be that man, Dean. What the Mark or that blade did, what all the pain and hell you’ve been through didn’t do that. You did it by choosing not to be the things you thought you had to be,” Mary replied sadly, hearing her younger son more clearly and hurting for the loss in his ragged voice; knowing that Dean’s ears could hear it as well. “Waking up a demon didn’t turn you into a man who just doesn’t give a damn or who enjoys partying or whatever else you’ve been doing these past few weeks. You make that choice because you thought being like this gave you the excuse to do it but you always could’ve been this man even before this happened.

“You didn’t have to follow John’s every order. You chose to. You chose to be the hunter, the soldier he trained. You chose to play around in school, to be the smart ass ladies’ man even though you had the grades to graduate and go on to a college just like Sam did but you chose to stay with your Dad,” Mary tapped a finger into her son’s chest to make her point. “You chose it, Dean. Just like you chose everything else when you could’ve easily chosen to walk out any time and have that normal life that I always wanted and thought I’d gained.”

“I chose to stay because if I had left then Sam never would’ve been able to leave,” Dean snapped back, hating to hear what a little piece of him had always known. “I stayed for Sammy. I would not let him lose his shot at normal when this,” he motioned around to the house before looking back at his mother. “This was not the life he wanted. It wasn’t the life we should’ve had, Mom. You made the choice that let that yellow eyed bastard into the house so between your choice and the ones Dad made after you died…is it any wonder Sam and I are as screwed up as we are?”

Mary accepted the blame. She accepted that if she had never made that deal that saved John’s life that her sons would never have been touched by the evil that they had. “Do you wish, honestly wish that I would’ve let your Dad die? Neither of you would’ve been born, Dean. Do you wish that Sam…”

“No!” Dean snapped, whirling away when a cry from the upstairs had both him and Mary’s eyes jerking up to the steps. “I just wish that for once your mistakes, Dad’s mistakes didn’t have to hurt him! That my damn mistakes didn’t have to always hurt him!” he yelled, torn between trying to leave and doing what his heart was telling him. “Angels, demons, you and Dad…our lives were planned out even before Sam and I were born and it will never stop, Mom! This, what I’m doing now, is the first time that I actually feel like I’m doing something that no one saw coming! That how I am now isn’t in anyone’s plans for me.

“I know I’m not a full out demon like maybe Crowley thought I’d be but I also know that I’m not the hunter, the man I was before I took Cain’s mark either. I don’t know who or what I am right now and that feels good to me! There’s nothing that matters to me right now, Mom. I’m free and…” Dean sighed when he was slapped again. “Really?”

“Mother’s instinct when she sees her oldest son being a jackass while the boy he swore to always be there for is upstairs throwing his guts up and sobbing for you to come back,” Mary replied with a sigh.

She could see so much of herself and John in both of her boys but it was seeing this side of Dean now that made her sad. “If you truly mean that, if you don’t care anything about Sam anymore now that you’re like this then…I guess you can go,” she moved a hand and the sound of the front door unlocking was heard. “I’m not sure how I was able to bring you here since like you say I am a spirit and I did cross but was able to come this time because Sam’s still my son and this was where I died. Or maybe someone wanted me to be here so in case these injuries are serious enough to kill him they wanted someone with him even if it’s his brother he wants more than even me or your father.”

Mary glanced between the steps and Dean to offer a small smile. “Despite how it turned out, I do want to say that I have been proud of the man you grew to be, Dean. I’m proud that you tried your best for Sam even though it cost you more than it should’ve. I’m just sorry that this is how he’ll lose you and that he blames himself for the deal that started this mess to begin with.

“I won’t stop you from leaving, Dean. If you really aren’t the man you were, if you’ve buried or lost the man that has been two steps behind his little brother from the moment we brought Sam home then…I guess it might be best for Sam to remember the brother that loved him over the one who doesn’t give a damn,” she stepped away to move back upstairs but paused to look back, nodding to a jacket by the door. “He did in one of his more lucid moments ask me to find some way to get whatever’s in the inside pocket back to you. Take care of yourself, Dean. No matter what or who you are or become you, like Sam, will always be my son and I love you. I need to go sit with him now if he’ll let me. I hate for him to be alone when he’s scared and confused. I also wish he’d let me help him settle in another room. His old nursery isn’t where he should be…Dean?”

“Come again?” Dean had been swearing to himself that he was not going to fall for the not so subtle guilt he was having aimed his way. He’d been given the guilt treatment by the best of them all his life but he had to admit that his mother was certainly the Queen of Guilt it seems as he was wavering when he heard what she was saying about the old nursery; eyes shooting to the ceiling. “Sam’s in his old nursery? He’s where…”

Mary nodded grimly. “He’s where I died and where his life and yours changed. I asked him why, if he knew where he was and he said it made sense for him to die or be sick in the room where he cursed his family,” she saw the definite flash of emotion on Dean’s rugged face this time. “I tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That I made the deal that allowed that thing into our home but…”

“No. No, he’s not staying in that room,” Dean forgot why he was so insistent on leaving and ignored his mother’s spirit as he sprinted up the steps.

The house had been remodeled after the fire but it still had the same room structure so Dean knew where the nursery had been. He took the steps two at a time, ignoring the thoughts that this might be how his Dad had taken them that night when it had all gone wrong, to run past his old room and stopped in the doorway to bit his lip rather than let out the string of curses that wanted to come when he took in the sight that waited for him. “Sammy.”

The last time Dean recalled seeing his brother Sam had been pale but that was because he’d just watched Dean die so he gave the kid leeway for that one. Now in addition to being a sickly white, he took in the ragged breathing, the bruises and cuts on Sam’s face and arms as he laid on the bare floor shivering like he was cold even though his hair and skin was soaked from sweating as a fever raged from wounds that Dean couldn’t see yet.

“ _Sonuvabitch_! Crowley will bleed if he knew about this!” Dean growled, jerking his jacket off as he moved into the room to drop to his knees beside his brother; ignoring or trying to that where Sam laid was where his crib had been that night. “Sam? Sammy? Hey, wake up for me now.”

Now that he was closer, Dean could see more wounds than he liked. He also noticed the drawn face and how worn out and skinny his brother actually looked in just the few weeks since he’d seen him. “Shit! Sam, what the hell have you done to yourself and…will you stop slapping me?” he growled without thinking. “Mom!”

“Don’t yell at your brother!” Mary snapped after following him into the room, frowning as she saw how much worse Sam looked in just the short time that she’d been away from him.

“I’m not yelling at Sam. This is not my yelling at Sammy voice. This is my pissed off at the assholes who did this to him and that includes myself voice,” Dean shot back, grabbing the jacket he’d discarded to ball it up and place it under his brother’s head as he rolled him to his back but quickly got the hint that wasn’t a good plan when Sam nearly screamed in pain and began to choke as he coughed. “Is there a room in this house with any furniture?” he asked while eyeing the room but refusing to look up. He refused to think on the memories of his last night in this house years ago.

Mary nodded. “The last owners left their stuff so there is a bedroom down the hall but he wouldn’t let me help him into it,” she replied, watching as her oldest son looked at Sam’s prone, bruised and battered body for a second before muttering something that sounded like ‘stubborn pain in the ass little brother’s giving him an ulcer’ before he reached to carefully get Sam into his arms. “Dean? I thought you were leaving.”

“He’s my brother. You knew if you got me here and I saw him that I wouldn’t leave him like this. You knew that,” Dean refused to admit how his stomach had flipped after he got Sam out of the old nursery and into the bedroom to lay on the bed and he saw the mass of bruises on his back.

He also refused to admit how damn guilty he felt at feeling how weak Sam seemed now in comparison to the brother he was used to seeing, to dealing with these past few years and knew he was the cause of this.

Sam had been attacked and battered physically by demons looking to hurt Dean but he’d been battered emotionally by Dean himself and no matter how good at guilt Mary Winchester might be, the former hunter knew the guilt he felt just from knowing if he had just picked up any of the times Sam called this might not have gotten so bad would always be worse.

Mary stood back to watch the scene in front of her unfold as Dean went about the task of getting the bloody, sweat and vomit soaked clothes off his brother to clean the wounds as best as he could while talking in a low voice that sounded nothing like the one she’d heard out of him since his arrival.

“He wouldn’t let me touch him to clean anything,” she spoke up after seeing Dean’s fingers shake as he came across a badly infected wound on Sam’s chest that had both shocked and angered her when she’d seen it. “He just kept muttering that only Dean could do it. That was a message to you I take it?”

“Uh-huh,” Dean grunted, soothing a pain whimper while grabbing for his cellphone to punch a single button and carefully wiped the blood away from the word that was scrawled into his brother’s flesh. “Did you know?” he asked in a low growl when it was picked up.

There was a short silence before Crowley coughed. “Did I know what exactly?” he asked curiously, sighing at the deeper growl that meant the hunter wasn’t buying his innocent routine. “I might’ve heard that some other faction had targeted Moose. I was planning to tell you…sometime.”

“You are as good as dead the next time I see you, Crowley,” Dean snarled lowly, powers skimming the surface until he realized Sam jerked as if able to feel them so he reined it in. “I’m telling you and you can pass the word to everyone else. I will kill the next goddamn demon or even angel that comes close to him. If you thought Abbadon was a threat to your little throne then you haven’t really considered what I could do to you without even trying!

“I spent 30 years on the rack and 10 years as Alastair’s student. I know how to hurt you and every other demon and in ways that will make him look like a choir boy. Touch my brother again, threaten him or try to use him as a tool to get at me? I will ruin you,” the ex-hunter warned in a low, hard tone. “Do we understand one another?”

“Yeah, got it, Squirrel. Stay away from Moose or face your wrath,” Crowley nodded. His tone was sarcastic but the demon had seen the dark side of Dean Winchester these past weeks so he knew he’d underestimated what he thought he could control. “You’re making waves, Dean. He’s in more danger alone because while I can control my lads, I don’t control everyone.”

“He won’t be alone. I swore once to have his back. I thought I could protect him from what I am by not being with him but that was a mistake,” Dean kept the disgusted sigh inside and refused to acknowledge the spirit’s knowing smile while glaring at the phone in his hand. “Just stay the hell away from us and keep your black eyed assholes clear too cause I will kill them if they come close to him.”

Dean cut the connection to throw the phone aside, focusing on Sam’s face; noticing that he did finally seem to be calming down in his sleep and his breathing wasn’t quite as labored as it had been the past few hours since he’d begun to clean the wounds.

“Why’d he come here?” he asked without looking. He could feel his mother’s spirit was still in the room.

Mary sat on the other side of the bed so she could watch both of her boys. “Sam said it was close to where they jumped him. He knew he’d never make it back to where you’ve been staying and he couldn’t call anyone so he came here on instinct,” she explained what Sam had told her once she had reassured him that she wasn’t a trick or there to hurt him. “Does he blame himself, Dean?”

“Ever since he learned the truth about how you died, how old Yellow Eyes came into his nursery and that was what started this nightmare Sam’s blamed himself,” Dean carded his fingers back through sweat soaked long dark hair to stare at his brother’s face and remembering the baby he’d once been in this house. “He blames himself for you dying. He blames himself for my going to Hell. Hell, if he could reason his way into it he’d find a way to blame himself for Dad dying but that’s on me.

“Sammy wears his heart and emotions on his sleeve and most of those emotions have been guilt and pain,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes to rid them of the sudden burning. “I don’t know what I am now, Mom. I don’t know what this Mark is doing to me and I didn’t want him hurt because of it. I thought he’d be safer if I left him.”

“You told him once that you were each other’s greatest weakness,” Mary reminded him, smiling softly at his look of surprise. “Dean, I might be dead but I’m not deaf. I still watch over my sons as best as I can even if I can’t help you like I wish I could,” she slowly reached hand out to stroke his face and watched his eyes soften just a little to let her know that not all of her son was lost. “That might be true as people know to hurt either one of you they can hurt the other but you’re also each other’s greatest strength too.

“Ever since Sam was a baby you looked after him and he tried so hard to follow in your footsteps. You give each other strength to keep fighting but when one of you gives up the other hurts,” she held out a hand to give him what she’d found clenched in her younger son’s hand. “You can choose to still be his brother even if you don’t want to be a hunter, Dean.

“Hunting might be in your blood but what is in your blood more than that, more than anything else is being a wonderful big brother,” Mary could feel that her time here was drawing to a close and just hoped she’d helped some. “I know a part of you, the part that you’d hide, is scared of what you might be now and that might be another reason that you left Sam to go party like some high school jock but I also think if you’d let him that Sam will go above and beyond to help you.”

Dean knew his brother would and that was what scared him. He knew what Sam would be willing to do to reverse this change and he didn’t want that on his head as well as everything else he carried. “What if I want to be this way?” he countered, moving his hand on instinct when he felt the first weak movement beside him.

“Do you?” Mary challenged, lifting a fine brow curiously. “Despite the so-called freedom you feel right now, is this really how you want to be now, Dean? Is this how you want to stay if there might be a chance to change it?”

“A…chance that doesn’t involve Sam dying?” Dean thought about it before blowing out a breath. “I want to be the brother that he can be proud of.”

“…am…proud…”

The low hoarse voice was weak and strained but it still made Dean jump because he hadn’t been expecting his younger brother to have heard him much less be awake enough to try to respond.

He quickly slashed a hand over his face before glancing down to see lashes fluttering as hazel eyes struggled to open a little. Dean felt Mary’s touch ghost over his face again like she used to when he was upset as a toddler. “Let him see you?” he asked softly, knowing how much of a mother’s love his brother had been longing for all his life.

“I’ll be here for a bit longer,” Mary assured him but felt that this moment was for her boys. “Talk to him, Dean. Be the brother you’ve always tried to be for him.”

Dean knew that despite the changes in him now that it seemed like he hadn’t changed in that regards no matter how much he might have thought he had. “Hey, Sammy,” he murmured when his brother’s eyes finally opened enough to see him; recognizing the shock and pain in them. “You back with me enough to take a sip of water?”

It had nibbled at the back of Dean’s mind as to why the most recent owners might have fled the house leaving all their belongings but he didn’t think on it long. He was just glad to find some bottled water that he could use to keep his sick and injured brother from becoming any more dehydrated.

There was a long pause before Sam slowly nodded, allowing Dean to help him lift his head enough to sip and swallow a couple pills that Dean had found in the medicine cabinet. “These aren’t as strong as what you’re used to but it might dull the pain until I get you back to the bunker and start giving you the good stuff…as well as some actual food. Dude, what the hell have you been eating since I’ve been gone? Twigs? You’re beginning to look like one and that’s actually scary.”

Sam stared at his brother after easing his head back to the pillow, eyes moving around the room before always returning to Dean. “Real?” he asked through split lips, wincing as his head ached and his stomach churned while pain burned through his back and chest. “Dreaming?”

“Yes, I’m real and no, you’re not dreaming,” Dean reached for a wet cloth to wipe over Sam’s still fevered face, feeling that same warning vibe shooting up his spine as if something or someone other than the ghost of their mother might be watching them. “Mom apparently has a lot of power for a ghost. She got me here. Demons do this, Sammy?” he asked tightly, hating the bruises and wounds that had been inflicted. “Were they Crowley’s?”

“Crowley knows…better,” Sam mumbled, grateful for the water as he tried to focus on his brother despite the moving room and the sudden cold chill he thought he could feel. “Don’ know who sent ‘em. They were pissed at you and…”

“And took it out on you,” Dean nodded, figuring he could find the guilty assholes later to gank or exorcise them for touching what was off limits to everyone. “And I didn’t answer your calls. I’m sorry, Sam. I should’ve known someone would target you after the waves I’ve been making in the demon community. Are you hurt worse than what I’m seeing and sensing?” he asked since he wouldn’t hesitate to drag Sam to the local ER if he had to.

A weak headshake came as Sam shivered suddenly. “I managed to kill one when they got sloppy and then the others took off. Said they’d left their message if you’d even care,” he let his eyes drop at that, frowning when strong fingers squeezed his hand to make him look up. “Do you still or is this Mom guilt or my imagination?”

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, I deserve that,” he looked at Sam fully when he felt the change in the room even as Sam was tensing and Mary’s voice shouted for him to watch out a second before a wave of energy slammed him off the bed and across the room, hitting the far wall hard.

“Dean!” Sam was trying to move, instinct still there to help his brother only to scream as pain shot into his chest when a thick dark mass began to form near the bed as the door to the bedroom slammed shut and lights began to flicker. “Agh!”

The dark mass had entered the home after teenagers played with things they didn’t understand, freeing him from the pits that had held him for centuries. He’d enjoyed playing with the mortals that came and went but had been cheated when the last family hadn’t lasted more than a week.

He’d been watching this injured boy since he stumbled into the house. The little spirit was of no use, plus she had an energy that hurt him and had kept him from closing in on the boy. He’d been drawing his strength from the power lines outside the home and this boy’s own strength until he was able to manifest now.

The other young man was of no interest right then as he planned to play with them both after he made the injured one scream for him as he sunk the icy cold dark energy into his chest to feel the pain.

“I’ll feast on your pain, boy,” the dark spirit growled, eyes glowing red as he watched the wounded boy struggle under its heavy weight.

He planned to draw it out, to make him suffer and had become so lost in the pleasure it was drawing from Sam’s pain and shock that it lost track of the other man; the one he expected to still be unconscious with how hard he’d thrown him into the wall. It was only when he followed the boy’s glassy eyes across the room to see the floor was empty that the spirit snarled and began to move to find its other toy when suddenly searing agony was felt as a sharp blade came through its chest.

“Get the hell away from my brother,” Dean growled, shoving the First Blade deeper into the mass to feel the cold emptiness as it touched his hands. “You want to feast on someone, asshole? Try me.”

The evil entity screamed and had to release the hold on Sam to try to stop the pain the other one was causing him. He lashed out but this time Dean was expecting it and ducked. “I’ll hurt you both for that!”

The mass had finally formed into a man; an older man with scars on his face, long stringy hair and teeth that looked razor sharp. He glared with hate at Dean, once again trying to use the power it had against him only to scowl this time when the man barely budged. “How…you can’t fight my power!”

Dean’s lips curved into a sneer, hearing his mother’s voice on the other side of the door and guessing she’d used up a good bit of whatever energy she had to get him to Lawrence and then sending Crowley away. He also wondered why the damn First Blade hadn’t destroyed this thing; maybe it didn’t work on all things or not ghosts or whatever this thing was supposed to be.

“You want to fight power on power?” he smirked and let his eyes go black while motioning with his other hand toward himself; wanting the thing away from his brother. “Bring it.”

The door to the bedroom flew open with a cursing Mary Winchester on the other side, a shotgun in her hands that she could feel getting thinner as her power began to wane. She saw Sam struggling to get off the bed while the dark energy that she thought she’d sensed earlier was throwing itself with a horrid scream toward her older son.

“Mom! Get Sam clear!” Dean shouted, biting back a shout of pain as whatever power this thing had actually hurt when it grabbed him despite the First Blade slashing through what should have been its chest.

“The hurt one is mine!” the thing snarled, determined to claim at least one victim to play with until a new family came. “He has much suffering I can play with.”

“The…hell he is!” Dean gritted his teeth, meeting power with power that allowed him to hold his own against this thing, feeling its age in the power it held and knew it was older than the body it seemed to have. “I won’t let demons or angels have him so…you can go to hell before you touch him!”

“Once I kill you then he will be mine!” the entity had never felt power like this one had. The boy was stronger than he’d first thought but as he built up its power to rip through Dean’s chest a sudden loud shot was heard before searing agony was felt and it had to let go to maintain this form. “No!”

Sam pumped the shotgun again as he fought to stay on his feet, feeling his mother’s hands on his arms as she tried to support him. “Go back to hell,” he muttered, fighting to stay conscious long enough to say the words that he hoped would drive the dark spirit from the house or at least drive it away from them.

The old Latin made the thing scream and Mary felt its strength weakening so took a chance by focusing what power she still had on it, allowing her anger at the thought of it hurting her boys to give her added strength.

“Let go of my son and get out of my house,” she ordered firmly, glaring at the thing as Sam finished the Latin and a burst of energy blew through the room and the black mass suddenly screamed and flashed out in a bright blue light through the ceiling a second before Sam dropped to his knees. “Sam!”

Dean was blinking to clear his eyes and shaking his hands to get the feeling back into them when he was moving even as he saw his brother’s eyes roll back in his head. “Sammy!” he caught the younger Winchester before his head hit the floor; grumbling about too tall little brothers as he carefully lowered Sam to the floor while looking up at his shimmering mother. “Thank you,” he murmured softly.

“Take care of him. Take care of yourself. Remember that no matter how bad it looks that there is always a light,” Mary knelt to gently place a hand on both of her sons with a slow smile. “I love you and Sam, Dean. Don’t forget that and don’t forget how much he loves you even if he doesn’t say it,” she felt the pull to tell her that her time was up but before she faded out she tapped her older son on the hand. “Dean? Wash the Impala before your father decides to haunt you.”

Dean smirked at that but nodded as he watched Mary’s spirit slowly fade away and wondered if the ache in his chest was leftover from the thing trying to pull his heart out or the pain of watching their Mom leave again. Blinking his eyes clear, he coughed to clear his throat while looking down to see that Sam was once again too pale and shivering.

Looking around the bedroom, the hunter suddenly knew where he needed to take his brother. “C’mon, Sammy. We’re going home.”

Hours…days…weeks…Sam Winchester wasn’t sure how long it had been since he lost consciousness after he hoped dispelling the actual dark spirit that he’d been going to Lawrence in the first place to look into.

His memories of everything since getting jumped by demons were spotty at best. He thought he’d seen and heard his brother but then since he was also fairly certain he’d seen and heard his mother as well he wasn’t going to place much stock in that memory…until he heard an exasperated deep voice that echoed in his head.

“What in the hell did you do to the kitchen, Sam? It looks like something blew up and I won’t even ask about the fridge since I think it needs hauled out and a new one put in.”

Sam pried his eyes open to see Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, wavy slightly longer than usual hair looking like his brother had been running his fingers through it. He reached out a tired hand to touch, frowning when he actually felt hard muscle rather than his hand passing through a dream.

“I told you back at the house that I was real,” Dean snorted, more at ease now that Sam’s fever had broken and he seemed to be waking up. “Of course then the black mass from hell decided to interrupt so your brains got scrambled again.”

“Did…is it gone?” Sam asked or thought he did as his head was still fuzzy on what had happened. “Was…I saw Mom,” he whispered, tone hesitant like he was unsure about what he had seen.

“Yeah, and I wish she could’ve stuck around so you could’ve seen her a little more but I think helping you banish that thing took what energy she had left so she had to go,” Dean had been pacing the bunker while waiting for Sam to wake up after he’d made certain his brother was alright and had come to a lot of conclusions in that day and half since he’d gotten them back from Lawrence. “She said to tell you she loved you and that nothing that happened ever was your fault…and for me to wash the Impala before Dad came calling.”

Sam bit his lip, still not believing that but looked back up at the last part. “The Impala’s dirty?” he couldn’t recall the last time his brother had allowed the car that was still like Sam’s home get seriously dirty. “I really need to fix you if you ever stopped caring about the car. I think I can take you not caring about me but it hurts to think that you stopped caring about the Impala too.”

“I never stopped caring about you, Sam,” Dean sighed and knew they were heading down chick flick alley and both the old and new him hated that plan but couldn’t see a way around it. “I…like I told Mom I’m not sure what this is making me. I didn’t want you hurt if I go full on dark side too fast so I…left,” he blew out a breath. “I thought it was better for you and I wanted a chance to explore that side but it seems like there might be too many hookers in the world to even burn me out.”

“God, please don’t make me wanna gouge my ears or my eyes out with a spoon again,” Sam groaned, body still hurting when he felt pills placed in his hand.

“Consider that payback for the images you gave me when you described your sex life with the demon bitch,” Dean snorted, lips curving into a small smile while watching to make sure his brother swallowed the pills with the water he held out. “The point it, I left to protect you and to get a handle on what I am now. I still don’t know and clearly the leaving you on your own plan failed since demons jumped you, you look like hell and my kitchen is a disaster zone so like Mom said…I could have always chose to be freer with my time rather than be so wrapped up in Dad’s mission.

“I had choices back then. I have choices now and…while I still don’t know if it’s a good plan if you’re going to insist on finding a way to fix me or if I want you to eat and not destroy the kitchen or the bunker then I better stick around,” he reached up out of some long ago learned habit to push Sam’s hair out of his face, seeing but choosing to ignore the small smile he saw on Sam’s face at the gesture. “Your room looks as bad as the kitchen so that’s why I stuck your butt in my room when we got back here.”

It took Sam a minute to realize he was in Dean’s room rather than his own. He thought briefly about moving until a hand landed flat on his chest as if warning him to stay still. “What about…Crowley?” he asked quietly, yawning but able to hold the bottle of water he was handed. “Won’t he get mad if you come back ho…here?”

“Crowley had better stay the hell out of my sight since he knew you’d been nailed and didn’t tell me,” Dean replied with a snort, hearing the catch and understanding it. “I don’t care what he thinks. I went with him cause I wanted him away from you cause I figured you’d go for his throat and I didn’t want you hurt. I know you can take care of yourself…usually but I also know how you get when angry or upset. You react…just like I do.”

“Guess we have that in common then,” Sam blinked sleepily and knew this time Dean had given him the good pain pills. “So…you staying then?” he asked as he laid his head back down, feeling something soft covering him and he could smell the familiar scent of leather, gun oil and…Dean.

Sitting still to watch as Sam settled back down to let the pills do their work, Dean knew when his brother’s fingers curled around the worn leather of his old jacket that he was relaxing. “Yeah, little brother, I’m home,” he confirmed, squeezing Sam’s hand tightly and feeling it returned with a slightly stronger grip than before. “You good for a little while?” he asked, never liking to leave Sam unless he knew for sure his brother would sleep or be alright.

“Sleepy so…yeah, I think,” Sam murmured, fighting to keep his eyes open to watch his brother move around the room like he always would before it all happened. “Where…where you gonna be?”

Dean turned a light on over on the desk to allow the room to have some light but not keep Sam awake as he checked to be sure the room was warded against anything that might choose to drop by so neither angel nor demon could get close to his brother while he wasn’t close.

“Well, while you’re sleeping again I’m gonna go wash our car because I do not want Dad’s ghost dropping in. It’d be bad if I had to use rock salt on our Dad,” Dean wasn’t so sure it would be so bad but he shrugged that opinion off on his current mind set while looking to see that Sam seemed to be settling back and would be falling to sleep soon as he smirked. “Then I’m going to go clean the kitchen…or try to.”

Sam nodded, drifting off and mumbling something that might have been a weak excuse to what had occurred in the kitchen in the time since his brother had been gone. “Dean?” he called suddenly, sensing that his brother was still close.

“Yeah?” Dean had paused in the door to look back, meeting sleepy eyes. “Anything else tore up that I should know about?”

“Thanks…for coming and for staying. I…I…missed you around here,” he rushed the last part out to avoid any lectures or growls about sappy chick flick moments. “I…ummm…”

Dean recalled his mother’s words and took a shaky breath. “Yeah, I missed you too, Sammy,” he replied, stepping out of the room to pause as he pulled the door almost all the way closed so he’d still hear if Sam called out. “Love you too, little brother,” he added before stepping away to smirk at the gasp he thought he heard since saying those words to his brother would naturally shock Sam as he wasn’t used to hearing them.

He flipped a switch on a small monitor that he figured Sam would yell about if he knew he’d hooked some type of listening device up in case his brother needed him while he was in the garage.

Stepping into the garage to eye the dirt and mud covered 1967 Chevy Impala that had been his since he was 17, Dean had to inwardly wince. “Sorry, baby,” he muttered, running his hand over the hood and feeling a twinge of guilt at the lack of car he’d not only shown his brother but also his car. “We’re home now with Sammy so let’s get you cleaned up before I go see what else Sam’s gotten into while we were gone. I’ll lecture him once he’s awake and can argue back.”

Tucking the bronze amulet that he’d slipped on after his mother had returned both it and the silver ring he used to wear to him; items that Dean would bring up to his brother once Sam was awake as well he shed his button down so begin to wash the Impala with the sounds of classic rock coming from the stereo. “I’m home.”

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and more in all my genres will be coming soon.


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